


if home was a place (it would be you)

by kulinatwilight



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, M/M, iwaoi - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:14:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28101495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kulinatwilight/pseuds/kulinatwilight
Summary: six thousand miles become condensed into millimetres, yet they still can't seem to get close enough...Over the past four years, the phone calls had fizzled out. They were busy, busy people. And part of being best friends meant that it was their job to understand that the other was out there chasing their dreams. And god forbid that either of them held the other back. Even if it meant letting them go. And especially if it was the hardest thing that they'd had to do.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 1
Kudos: 40





	if home was a place (it would be you)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hello, this started off as a drabble based loosely off California King Bed, but my iwaoi playlist is extensive and I spiralled into fluff because of Mr Loverman, Still Into You and Hourglass. 
> 
> Without further adieu... please enjoy!
> 
> K xo

Over the past four years, the phone calls had fizzled out. They were busy, busy people. And part of being best friends meant that it was their job to understand that the other was out there chasing their dreams. And god forbid that either of them held the other back. Even if it meant letting them go. 

And _especially_ if it was the hardest thing that they'd had to do.

Iwaizumi drummed his fingers on the countertop. He contemplated asking Oikawa to get a cab.  _ How would that go Hajime?  _ He grumbled at himself. His stomach flipped and twirled. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, resting his head on the cool marble. Pressing his lips together, he wondered why he had even asked Oikawa to visit in the first place. He got carried away. This is why they didn’t do phone calls anymore. Much less Facetimes. The combination of Oikawa’s voice and his face together was almost too much to bear. Often, Iwaizumi broke sleep later in the night, a slice of moonlight illuminating his tear-streaked face and empty, empty hands that twitched at the thought of running through Oikawa’s soft curls.

Even through tinny speakers, the timbre of Oikawa’s voice resonated deep within his chest, intertwining with his breath, unlocking the box of ‘words he’d never said’ that he had hastily shoved away when he’d let him go. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like when he was  _ here.  _ Oh god. He was coming here. 

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. Picking up his phone and glancing at the time he sighed resignedly. Whichever way he thought about it, he’d have ended up picking him up. May as well stop procrastinating the inevitable. 

The June sun beat steadily down. It was no longer mellow enough to be considered springtime. Iwaizumi sat in his car in the John Wayne airport parking lot. He stared at the cactus-shaped Eucalyptus freshener swinging from the mirror and contemplated turning around. 

_ “Come visit.” he blurted, before he could stop himself _

_ Oikawa’s lips parted into a pretty pink ‘o’. He blinked in quick concession before smiling slyly, “Oh? So you do miss me Iwa-chan?” _

_ Iwaizumi hummed, neither confirming nor denying the damning question.  _

_ Every day you idiot. With every beat of my heart. _

Taking his hands off the wheel, Iwaizumi curled his fingers and braced himself. Because. When a storm is coming, what else can you do?

His traitorous heart thrummed loudly, reverberating through his skull. The ugly airport tiles were getting on his nerves. But- to be fair to the tiles- all his nerves were on overdrive. His whole body was wound tight. Anticipation. 

He clicked the knuckles on each of his fingers. He tapped his fingertips on his thumb. He cracked his neck and filled his cheeks with air and made popping sounds with his lips. Not even his finals had made him this fucking nervous. 

_ What gives? _

All the air he’d collected in his lungs was knocked out. 

If Iwaizumi was watching the scene play out in a movie (of Oikawa’s choosing), he would have scoffed (and been met with a whine that when he moved his chest, Oikawa’s head moved.) But he wasn’t. He didn’t even have extra air to sacrifice to a scoff.

He saw Oikawa’s hair first- of course he did. Iwaizumi’s fingertips tingled. He was broader but he still towered over the majority of people filing out of the arrivals gate. He was tanned and freckled and radiant and he  _ glowed.  _ But it was his eyes that made Iwaizumi’s heart stutter. 

The same eyes he had seen shine with pride, waver in fear and steel over with determination. He was a fool to think the rich tones could be adequately captured by mere pixels. Everything he felt and more could be reflected in Oikawa’s eyes. The hesitance. The anticipation. The love.  _ So much love.  _

If eyes were the windows to the soul then god, why did these feel like home?

Now, if it were a movie, the crowd would have parted for them. The red sea in wake of their feelings. But, it wasn’t a movie. So through shoulders and suitcases they shoved. And Iwaizumi couldn’t help but think it was poetic in its own way. He’d figured out what to do  _ to  _ reach Oikawa, but he didn’t know what to do once he had. 

He wanted to drop to his knees. 

Oikawa stopped in front of him. Closer than regular people would have stopped. The air between them seemed to span miles. As if the fabric of space and time hadn’t registered that they were together again. 

Oikawa smiled softly, “Have I rendered you speechless Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi blinked dumbly, watching his mouth move gracefully around the words. The Japanese cut clearly through the drawl he had become so familiar with. He huffed out a breath. Using his eyes to skim where his hands would if he weren’t such a coward. Clenching his jaw, he quirked his lips up into a smirk, “I was testing to see how long you could shut up.” 

Oikawa’s jaw dropped, and he spouted complaints at Iwaizumi’s brutish nature and mean tendencies that he had hoped would have mellowed out with time. 

_ You always render me speechless.  _

Much to Iwaizumi’s surprise, Oikawa had managed to pack light. His only suitcase was the small teal pilot bag that he had put in overhead that now sat comfortably in the boot. 

“You can see the sea from everywhere,” Oikawa remarked absentmindedly from the front seat, “It’s beautiful.”

Iwaizumi risked a glance over to his right. Oikawa had his arm stretched out of the window, fingers dancing in the breeze and hair being tousled by the salty air that blew off the expanse of ocean that was visible next to him. The sun glinting off the waves was reflected in his eyes. Iwaizumi caught himself before he forgot he was driving altogether. He flicked his eyes to the sky and couldn’t help his lips from twitching up into a smile.

Unlocking the door to his place, he almost said, “Sorry for the mess,” as if he hadn’t been the neater of the two their whole lives. His shoulders tensed before he swung the door open.

Oikawa cocked his head, “Something wrong?”

Iwaizumi cleared his throat softly, shook his head and opened the door. 

_ I’ve missed coming home knowing that you’d be right behind me _ .

“Do you want a drink or anything?” Iwaizumi asked from the kitchen. He heard a non-committal hum from the living room and decided to pour another glass of water anyways. His place was modest. The two main selling points for him was the proximity to the beach and the way the sunlight bathed the entire place in gold just before sunset. Light spilled through the windows as if, as long as they had made it there in time, they could rest easy until tomorrow.

As soon as Oikawa had blustered through the door, Iwaizumi had to keep double-checking that he hadn’t always been right next to him and that the past four years weren’t all some hallucination. Oikawa had a distinct way of making the deepest impressions in every crevice of Iwaizumi’s life. His house here was clearly no exception. Even as he skimmed his long fingers over the surfaces like he was trying to drink it all in, Iwaizumi could visualise his beach bungalow turning to clay and Oikawa signing everything with the swirls of his fingerprints. 

The same one’s Iwaizumi had memorised the order of, back when they were nine years old. 

The same ones that were so clearly marked on his heart.

When he heard a laugh come from the corridor- the acoustics of it perfect to make it resonate, Iwaizumi had a hard time convincing himself that he definitely did not have the acoustics of a space around Oikawa’s laugh in mind when choosing a place to live. 

He padded out to where Oikawa was, glasses of water in hand, “What’s so funny?” 

Oikawa turned, a soft smile curving his lips, “Nothing,” his eyes twinkled as he took the glass gratefully, “it’s just,” he paused again and looked out over the beach- definitely for effect. The shit. “Iwa-chan chose such a pretty place to live.” 

He couldn’t exactly argue. A whole side of his place faced the sea. The view from the bedroom was the same- overlooking the temperamental waves that sometimes reminded him of… he definitely did not trust his subconscious any longer. 

Exhaling softly, Oikawa glanced at Iwaizumi, “So,” 

Iwaizumi hummed. 

“Do I get the grand tour?” he teased slightly.

“Oh,” Iwaizumi scratched the back of his neck bashfully and he swallowed as a pink colour dusted his cheeks. He found a look in Oikawa’s eyes that he couldn’t quite place, “Right, um.” he moved his head to gesture down the corridor, “This way then.” 

He could feel the tips of his ears burning and for more than a few seconds and he was suddenly very grateful that his back was to the other.  _ God.  _

He gestured to the toilet that branched off to the right of the corridor and continued going to the bedroom. 

_ Oh my god the bedroom.  _

“I haven’t got a spare bedroom or anything,” Iwaizumi said gruffly, as if just realising himself (he was). “I can take the couch.”

Oikawa snapped his head around to face him in the doorway of the room,“Don’t be ridiculous.” his face was all scrunched up, “your bed is big enough for us both,” he nudged him with his shoulder, “or are you so used to having this king-sized all to yourself despite sharing a single with me for the entirety of our growing up that you’re not willing to give up any of it?”

_ This bed feels empty unless I imagine you next to me. _

“I said you could use it didn’t I?” Iwaizumi grumbled.

Oikawa seemed to hesitate for a second before draping over his shoulders, but Iwaizumi couldn’t be sure. “I’ll get cold Iwa-chan,” he said- no,  _ whined.  _ But his breath curled around Iwaizumi’s ear, causing him to involuntarily shiver. 

“Ah! And you’re cold too!” Oikawa said gleefully, “Sharing it is!” 

He looked far too pleased with himself for Iwaizumi to argue (it would only be half-hearted anyways). So instead, he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, and took a moment to drink in the sight of Oikawa slightly hunched over his suitcase that he’d plopped on the bed as he rifled through it.

Oikawa glanced up and opened his mouth to say something but Iwaizumi straightened up and spluttered slightly, “I’ll um-” he swallowed, “I’ll let you freshen up.” he skittered away, flattening himself to the windows in the corridor, exhaling shakily. Maybe if he wished it enough, he would turn as invisible as the glass. 

He thought he heard a slight sigh from his bedroom.

Iwaizumi collapsed on the couch, his legs threatening to give way. He ran his fingertips over the familiar stitching of his couch and looked over his shoulder at the expanse of sea and sand outside. 

“Iwa-chan?” 

He’d heard that voice so many times and turned, only to be met with ghosts of memories- nothing palpable in the space around him that the burning of tears in his eyes and the metallic tang in his mouth had become all too familiar. He hesitated, squeezing his eyes. Afraid. 

“Iwa-chan?” it said again, quieter this time. 

He turned, despite himself. 

He’d always turn.

Oikawa’s hair was slightly damp. The smell of bergamot and lychee clung to his skin. The white t-shirt he wore was slightly too-big for him. He stood between the coffee table and the couch, facing Iwaizumi. Eyes searching. 

Iwaizumi stood up.

The light rushed in. 

_ God.  _

The sunlight was relentless. Painting everything in gold. The rug, the couch, the wall.  _ Oikawa.  _

_ Have mercy. _

He looked like a Klimt painting. Sun drenched. All soft lines illuminated. Any angle sharpened by deep blue shadow. He was encased in honey. His hair the same deep brown, glowed at the edges. As if he had a halo. His eyelashes glinted; gold thread. The flecks of it in his eyes glowed. 

Iwaizumi couldn’t breathe.

_ “Oikawa,” _ he choked out. 

He wanted to touch him. To hold him. To trace the lines of his face and his jaw and his neck. He wanted to kiss into the curve between his neck and his shoulder. He wanted to skim his lips over each knuckle over and over again. He wanted... He wanted... He  _ needed _ ...

So he stared. Because when the living, breathing form of everything you could possibly want- all your dreams, your hopes, your  _ desires _ , stands in front of you looking like they would willingly melt if you touched them, what else can you do? 

If you are a coward. 

“Come to bed.” Oikawa murmured quietly, the sunlight running rivulets off his skin as the sky collected them back up. 

Iwaizumi blinked. He could feel his breath leaving him in puffs over his still parted lips. “You don’t,” he paused, “You don’t want to eat?”

Oikawa smiled softly, shaking his head. “I want to sleep for a bit,” Iwaizumi opened his mouth. “With you.” Oikawa finished off, effectively shutting it. 

Iwaizumi swallowed thickly, “Are you sure?”

Oikawa hummed and began walking back to the room. Iwaizumi’s eyes raked over his back, skimming down his arms. One hand seemed to be waiting for something. He felt his fingers twitch. 

“I’m not hungry yet Iwa-chan.” Oikawa sighed, “I’m just tired.”

“Alright.” Iwaizumi said, stopping by the door.  _ This is fine. The bed is big enough that we’ll have enough space.  _

Oikawa took the left side, as he always did and Iwaizumi climbed in after him. The oranges and reds of the sky were ricocheting off the walls as they lay together. So close.  _ And yet _ .

Rolling onto his side to face him, Oikawa yawned. His nose scrunched up and his eyes clamped together as he buried down into the mattress. His hair was feathery against the pillow and Iwaizumi’s hand moved of its own accord, stroking through it, thumb brushing against his cheekbone. 

Oikawa sighed contentedly and cracked his eyes open, blinking slowly. “What’s wrong?”

Iwaizumi pulled his hand back. Scorching.

Oikawa’s gaze was questioning, a small crease visible between his eyebrows. 

Iwaizumi’s hand moved again; to smooth it over. Settling in the curve of Oikawa’s neck, thumb brushing over his jaw. 

Their legs were tangled and Iwaizumi felt himself grow calmer the more of Oikawa he was intertwined with. 

Ironically, being apart from him caused more knots in his heart than anything. 

Iwaizumi let himself go for a second and pulled Oikawa closer into his chest. The latter sighed in what sounded like relief. Iwaizumi flicked his gaze to Oikawa’s face. His eyes had fluttered shut, a small smile played on his lips. Iwaizumi stopped moving his thumb and the frown lines reappeared. 

“Hajime?” Iwaizumi’s name rolled out of Oikawa’s mouth. Sleep-drunk and warm.

His breath caught in his throat.  _ I can’t do this.  _ He began moving his hand away but Oikawa’s came up, entwining their fingers and nuzzling into Iwaizumi’s touch. 

“Don’t go.” a quiet plea.

Iwaizumi stopped resisting and rested their foreheads together before moving to rest his chin on Oikawa’s. “‘m scared.” he murmured into brown hair so soft it would plague his deepest nightmares.

“Of?” Oikawa replied, half asleep but fingers still clenched tightly in the fabric of Iwaizumi’s shirt.

_ “If I hold you like this, I’m scared I won’t let go.” _

“Don’t.” a breathless whisper into his neck.  _ Fuck was that out loud? _

Iwaizumi held everything he could possibly want in his arms as the late afternoon bled into dusk. He pressed a chaste kiss to Oikawa’s forehead and slid his arms away swiftly. Any longer and he’d burn. 

Oikawa understood that Iwaizumi was busy. He needed to study and get work experience and live his life. Hell, Oikawa was living his life. But the crushing fear that he was losing the one person he couldn’t bear to, was beginning to eat him up. That was why on a random Thursday evening, he decided to take the initiative to Facetime. Not call. Not text. But Facetime. 

It had been months since he had seen Iwaizumi’s actual face- actual being virtual because they hadn’t actually had a visit since just after both of them had moved and he was feeling so utterly homesick that Iwaizumi booked a flight out. 

Oikawa realised later that he wasn’t homesick for Japan. He was homesick for Iwaizumi. 

With the familiar sounds of the court; the squeaks, palms slapping, and balls bouncing came the thoughts of his best friend. 

Argentina was loud and alive. San Juan thrummed with a heart of its own. The colours were brighter and the smiles were wider and Tooru built himself over and over and over again. His smile was oh so full. But there was a piece missing. He searched for it on glittered and chapped pairs of lips alike until he realised that that piece was approximately 6,291 miles away. His heart. A boy with a resolve of stone. A smile like the first cherry blossom. And a laugh like the morning air after a thunderstorm. 

So on that Thursday night when there were obnoxious multicoloured string lights visible over his shoulder and they both overlooked the Pacific, sand beneath their feet, with atrocious signal and the sound of wind distorting their voices through their speakers, and his  _ heart  _ six thousand miles away  said ,  _ breathed _ the first sign of perhaps maybe missing him too? It was all he could do not to run all the way there. 

Oikawa woke up alone. 

Crisp white sheets cocooned him carefully. Delicately. As if he was something to be protected.

His fingers felt empty at the loss of material and warmth behind it. Pearlescent moonlight filtered through the window and its cool caress paired with the echo of Iwaizumi’s presence made Oikawa sit up hollowly. He curled into himself and lamented silently, for their friendship, for his love, for his luck- that seemed to have just run out. How were they so close. And yet.

A lone tear tracked down his cheek. ‘ _ Fitting,’  _ he thought bitterly, feeling it run a salty trail over the corner of his lips. 

He ran a hand over the empty side of the bed. Fingers reaching for phantoms of transferred heat. Every bed seemed so empty these days. He was sure that a single bed would be far too much space for him and his hollow, hollow chest. 

He threw his head back and scrunched his eyes closed before throwing a glance to the sparkling sea outside, hoping to find something,  _ anything  _ hidden in its depths. 

Nothing was.

But a figure stood. Stoic. On the shore. 

Moonlight bounced off their subtle curves and strong edges. Slivers of silver sliced down onto them. Darkness and shadow running like ink into one another as the sky itself became confused as to what parts of this being actually belonged down here.

And this time, Oikawa did run. 

The air was dry and warm despite the expanse of ocean. He hadn’t bothered with shoes, suddenly extremely grateful for the practice he’d had at running on sand, with another boy, on another beach, next to another ocean. 

The sand was silver in the moonlight. Like the contents of an hourglass.

He was so, so close. 

He knew that figure. That stance. And if he could get close enough to touch him, he could truly believe that it wasn’t a mirage. An emotionally induced hallucination.

The ground was unstable beneath him. It shifted and bent unrelentlessly. Vibrating and sliding like time itself.

_ “I’m scared I won’t let you go.”  _

Oikawa stopped in his tracks. The brush of lips against his forehead hadn’t been something his brain had conjured up. 

_ Did he? Had he?  _

“Iwa-chan you idiot!” Oikawa yelled from his spot, where he was rooted in the sand. Hands trembling and clenched into fists.

Iwaizumi swirled to face him. It was almost comical. The shock coloured his features, his eyes widening and his jaw dropping. “Oikawa?”

Oikawa uprooted himself and stomped towards him, his hand moved before he could think about it and the crack of the contact between palm and cheek was audible over the crashing of the waves. 

Blinking rapidly, Iwaizumi recovered and tendrils of rage began emanating from him. “What the FUCK Oikawa!” He pressed a palm to his face to ease the sting but the fire in Oikawa’s eyes hadn’t been extinguished. 

“You left me alone!” Oikawa yelled at him.

“What are you talking about Shittykawa, I was right outside!” He gestured wildly to the house. 

Oikawa’s face began crumbling, the fire replaced by smoke, and his eyes watered from the sting. “That’s not what I meant,” he whispered, lips barely moving.

Iwaizumi stepped closer, bringing his hands up to cradle Oikawa’s face. 

“You left me alone,” Oikawa hiccuped, tears flowing freely down his cheeks, “a long time ago.”

Iwaizumi shook his head, wiping away the steady stream of tears with the pads of his thumbs, head craned in. “I didn’t-”

“You did.” Oikawa cut him off. “You did, and I don’t know why.” he shut his eyes and shook his head helplessly. “You let me  _ go _ .”

“Tooru,” Iwaizumi whispered into the space between them. Barely and yet most definitely there. “Tooru.” he said again, more insistently.

Watery brown eyes fluttered open and Oikawa swallowed, biting the inside of his lip to stop it wobbling.  _ Iwa-chan had always told him he was an ugly crier.  _

“I had to.” Iwaizumi’s eyes shone as he shook his head himself. “You needed to go.” He felt tears threatening to spill over, “I couldn’t be selfish with you.”

Oikawa’s heart stuttered and he laughed weakly, one hand coming up to place over Iwaizumi’s, “You’re an idiot.” 

Iwaizumi felt his eyebrows pull down despite the softness of the situation and the tone in which Oikawa had said it.

“You’re an  _ idiot  _ Hajime,” Oikawa continued, entwining their fingers once again, “because it’s not possible to be selfish with something that’s yours in the first place.”

Iwaizumi stood on the beach. World spinning. Particles careening, colliding, combusting. Atoms of things he knew split apart and reformed again. He held onto the only thing he knew. The only thing he wanted to. He could have sworn he saw the beginning and end of the universe. 

Oikawa watched Iwaizumi, eyes twinkling with amusement but also searching. Searching for an answer. 

It came in the crushing of lips against his own. The crescendo of the waves and their heartbeats the perfect soundtrack to the tearing and stretching of time, pulling and folding, to encompass heart and soul finding home once again. 

In the hollows of one another’s chests. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! I would love to hear your thoughts! 
> 
> Also feel free to dm me on twitter @ohtobetooru :)
> 
> Sending love.
> 
> K xo


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